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<title>i have to celebrate you, baby by NOSTOC_SUNDIAL</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27654688">i have to celebrate you, baby</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NOSTOC_SUNDIAL/pseuds/NOSTOC_SUNDIAL'>NOSTOC_SUNDIAL</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>CARGO [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, One Shot, may have accidentally posted this twice?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:07:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,139</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27654688</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NOSTOC_SUNDIAL/pseuds/NOSTOC_SUNDIAL</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“i’m in love with you.” clay says, like he’s talking about the weather.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>CARGO [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2073561</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>646</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i have to celebrate you, baby</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“i’m in love with you.” clay says, like he’s talking about the weather.</p><p>they’re facetiming. clay’s face is half smushed into his pillow, skin lit ghostly pale by the blue light from his screen.</p><p>george stares at his phone, more than dumbfounded. it’s not a joke.</p><p>“oh.” he says, his body finally catching up to his brain.</p><p>clay laughs. it’s not mocking. it’s a laugh george has heard before, staticy over late night calls. it comes in a package, usually, bundled in together with tender promises and fond adoration. </p><p>george can’t recall ever hearing it on stream and it clicks that this is why.</p><p>“it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, georgie,” clay says serenely, “or if you don’t know, or if you want to wait.” </p><p>he’s grateful for the options, and he nods, “alright then.”</p><p>-</p><p>clay doesn’t force him to say ‘i love you’ on stream, not anymore. he still says it himself though, slotting the words in between casual jokes and chatter. hearing it feels to george like he’s panning for gold, picking out shimmering flakes from in between gravel and dirt.</p><p>-</p><p>when they finally meet up at the airport, george is more than a little apprehensive. he can’t stop fiddling with his hoodie, running his hands through his hair, staring at the ceiling like it's the most interesting thing in the world.</p><p>he regrets arriving so early. </p><p>his regret is forgotten when he sees the delighted look on clay’s face. clay doesn’t hug him, so george does it for him, encircling his friends broad waist and nudging his head into the crook of clay’s neck. </p><p>there’s a pause, then a contented sigh from above him as strong arms come to wrap around his waist, warming george against the freezing air conditioning. </p><p>-</p><p>they’re curled up on george’s slumping couch, lazily watching something on his tv. </p><p>the colours flash and blur in front of the brunettes unseeing eyes, white noise in comparison to the focus he has on clay’s breathing next to him.</p><p>something uncertain takes root in his chest, the feeling reminiscent of a foal taking its first steps. george rolls his head towards the blond.</p><p>“clay?” their eyes meet and george suddenly knows the answer to his question, surprised now that he could have ever doubted its truth.</p><p>he asks anyways, just to be sure. just to hear it one more time.</p><p>“do you still… uh… like me? like that?”</p><p>clay rests his head back against the couch, entire body tilted towards george, a sunflower chasing the rays of the midday sun. an adoring smile melts across his face, lips tugging up and eyes crinkling at the question.</p><p>“of course, george.” </p><p>lazy, languidly, george stretches out a leg and knocks a knee against clay’s. he twists their ankles together, tangling their legs and reveling in the warmth seeping in at every point of contact.</p><p>he tops it all off with a wobbly grin in the direction of his friend, barely making eye contact, hoping he’ll understand.</p><p>clay hums, reaching out a hand to toy with the cuff of georges jeans, the distance between them inching ever closer.</p><p>- </p><p>george learns that clay shows affection in many ways.</p><p>most obvious are his blatant and constant ‘i love you’s, weaving between the exhilaration and the banter and even the casual conversation, easily missed and easily underestimated. this is how he says it the most, coming out of his mouth without second thought.</p><p>sometimes though, he speaks the words and lets them sit, bracketed not by an endless stream of consciousness but by reverent silence, eyes love-glazed and so saccharine.</p><p>george finds he likes the latter expression the most. it’s private, for him only, and he indulges in the warmth it lights in him like a cat lazing in the summer sun.</p><p>clay waits for george, gives him space, and lets him breathe. he’s patient, letting george initiate every touch. it’s sweet, and truthfully, george couldn’t be more thankful as he stumbles into this, into clay’s sweet words and gentle smiles.</p><p>he’d been somewhat apprehensive when they’d planned the visit, mind crafting tense scenarios and awkward goodbyes. now though, he feels silly for worrying; being with clay is the easiest thing in the world. </p><p>it’s so lovely to be by him, to feel the coals in his chest glow in tandem with the beating of clay’s heart.</p><p>-</p><p>on clay’s last night in london they fall asleep together under george’s covers. they fit together like they were made for each other, a finished picture with only two puzzle pieces. clay fits perfectly in george’s arms, and george’s head fits perfectly under clay’s neck.</p><p>it reminds him of their first hug, in the airport. it reminds him of their legs tangling together on his couch. it reminds him of home.</p><p>-</p><p>consciousness comes to george lazily, the last motes of sleepiness washing away at the feeling of clay’s breath against his cheek. he pulls him closer and wishes they could stay like this forever, connected at every point, drenched in the haze of bronze creeping around the edges of his curtains.</p><p>clay stirs at the jostling. he whines, confused, and barely coherent, blanketed still by drowsiness. somehow though, his arms shift and pull george impossibly closer, enveloping him in heavy warmth.</p><p>a wave of endearment rolls through george, molten gold spilling over his heart, and pooling in his ribcage. he nuzzles his head further under clay’s chin and hesitantly pushes featherlight lips against the blond’s neck. </p><p>clay whispers george’s name like it’s a prayer, voice coming through choked with awe. the brunette's response isn’t spoken, given instead in the form of soft pecks against the freckles littered across clay’s neck and shoulders.</p><p>george tilts his head up, reveling in the way his friend melts under his gaze. his eyes flick down for a moment and he knows clay sees it, watching as heat unfurls across his sundrenched cheeks.</p><p>clay waits, ever patient, as george leans in and connects their lips. </p><p>it’s chaste and soft, and george bathes in the champagne bubbles that pop in his stomach. clay reaches up to cup his jaw, deepening the kiss until george feels like he’s melting under the touch.</p><p>it’s over too soon, george pulling away first to rest their foreheads together and smile breathlessly.</p><p>“i love you.” he fills it with as much adoration and golden affection as he possibly can, wanting clay to feel the warmth from the hearth he’s made in george’s chest.</p><p>thankfully, those three words seem to get his message across because clay brings them together, kissing george like it’s the only thing he ever wants to do in life.</p><p>george thinks back to that early morning facetime call and realises that maybe it is. </p><p>and he realises that maybe all he wants to do in life is kiss clay, too.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>title from "praise you" by fatboy slim</p></blockquote></div></div>
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